


She's Gonna Pick a Star in the Night

by OrangeRaven989



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Annette is pop-punk trash, Camping, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Guitars, Implied Sexual Content, Leonie's entire playlist is Dave Matthews, Rare Pairings, References to Drugs, Singing, Tent Sex, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:20:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27267094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeRaven989/pseuds/OrangeRaven989
Summary: Annette and Leonie go camping together for the first time and play a little campfire music. Turns out Annette's voice is quite the aphrodisiac.Modern AU setting where they're both teachers.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Leonie Pinelli
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	She's Gonna Pick a Star in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Wasn't sure how this pairing was going to work initially, but good god once I got going the banter just wouldn't stop!
> 
> Also, pop-punk Annette and flannel-hipster Leonie are canon now. I don't make the rules.
> 
> Title inspired by lyrics from "Three Marlenas" by The Wallflowers, which also makes an appearance. If you haven't heard it, you should!

The crackling fire and the crisp evening air made Annette feel much cozier than she had any right being. Well, okay, maybe it was the alcohol. But still, for someone who’d never really gone camping before—beyond sleeping out in the backyard in a tent as a kid—she was quickly starting to feel right at home. She took another sip of her hard cider and tilted her head back, looking up at the dusky sky, hating that it was already almost dark despite not even being seven o’clock yet, but loving the rest of the atmosphere. Autumn was here and she was here for it.

“Fuck.”

Annette stifled a laugh, pressing her lips together and raising an eyebrow at her girlfriend, who sat perched on a stump, acoustic guitar in her lap, beer bottle knocked over at her feet and spilling into the dirt. She stared down at it, her orange eyes a mix of sad and pissed, lips pouting. She grumbled.

“That was a freshly opened one, too,” she said. “What a waste.” Finally she picked it up and held it to the light, inspecting just how much had been lost. “Half the bottle,” she reported, shaking her head. “Hope the grass likes a good IPA.”

Annette chuckled. “There’s no grass, Leonie, just the dirt.”

“Hope the dirt likes a good IPA,” Leonie retorted, then took a long swig from the bottle before setting it down carefully this time. She returned to absently plucking the guitar.

Annette leaned back and closed her eyes. It was nice. The clear autumn night, the fire, the alcohol, the sounds of the guitar… camping out in the woods with Leonie was going much, _much_ better than she’d expected. She pried an eye open and snuck another gaze at her girlfriend. Flannel shirt, tight jeans, sideswept ponytail. A bit rough and tumble, of course, but Annette was into that. She smirked. Of _course_ Leonie was a flannel-wearer.

Annette had only been teaching at Garreg Mach High School for a few months when she met Leonie, and it wasn’t even at the school. It was at the local Guitar Center, where Annette liked to spend her time fiddling with instruments she couldn’t afford, sampling some wacky sounds from the latest synthesizers, looking over the limited selection of sheet music for some of the more well-known rock artists. But one day Leonie strolled in, guitar case on her back, and waved at her. She waved back, hesitantly, not knowing if she was being mistaken for someone else, but Leonie walked over to her and smiled.

“You’re the new music teacher at GMHS, right?”

Annette perked up. “Uh, yeah,” she replied. “I just started.”

“I’m Leonie Pinelli,” she replied, holding out her hand. “I’m one of the gym teachers, and I coach the softball team.”

“And play guitar, apparently,” Annette replied. Then she blushed and shook the proffered hand. “Oh, I’m Annette, by the way. Annette Dominic.”

Leonie winked. And that was how it all started, a little over half a year ago.

Now they were camping. Their summer had been hot and steamy, and now they were settling in for a cozy autumn. She took another sip of her cider, her cheeks pink from the chill and her head beginning to get just a little fuzzy. The crickets were chirping, and if she listened really hard she could hear the sounds of other campers far off toward the lake. But they were secluded up in their little spot, and the world couldn’t reach them.

Getting away was hard now that the school year was underway. Annette had become the choir director and was also involved in the musical in tandem with the drama department, so weekends were almost as busy as workdays most of the time. So when some time opened up they took advantage, even if it was just for a couple days.

Leonie continued plucking strings and strumming random patterns, lulling Annette into a trance. But then she began a familiar chord progression and Annette’s eyes snapped open.

“Oh my _God_ ,” she laughed, rolling her eyes. Leonie stopped and looked over. “We literally _just_ listened to your all-Dave-Matthews playlist on the way up here, and now you’re playing more Dave Matthews?”

Leonie pouted. “Come on, you like Dave Matthews,” she replied. “Besides, it’s campfire music.”

Annette tossed off her blanked and reached out her hand. “Here, gimme the guitar,” she said. “I’ll pick something.”

Leonie hesitated before obliging, passing the guitar over to Annette and then finishing her beer in another swallow. She fished through the cooler for another one while Annette slipped a capo on the second fret and fingered a chord. She began to play an opening sequence, fingerstyle, and Leonie popped open her beer and took a sip with a nod.

Then Annette began to sing the opening lines to “Ocean Avenue,” and Leonie held up her hand. “Hold up.”

Annette’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Come on, Annette, we’re vibing here, feeling good,” she said. “Can we not bring down the mood with depressing middle school emo shit?”

“Yellowcard wasn’t emo,” Annette muttered. “You’re lucky I’m not playing Dashboard stuff,” she added.

“Gimme that guitar back.”

Annette stuck out her tongue. “No way.” She went back to playing her rendition of the song. “Besides,” she said, over the opening, “I’m really proud of this arrangement.”

The notes continued to float through the air, mixing with the crackling fire and filling the oncoming night around them. She closed her eyes and began to sing again, lines she used to belt out at max volume while doing her homework or riding in the car with her friends. But this rendition was low-key and heavily slowed down, and her voice took on a more introspective tone. Maybe not exactly right for a feel-good campfire song, but it still fit the mood. Leonie was just being a butt.

She gave an almost sultry edge to the chorus, and she opened her eyes a little to get a glimpse at Leonie’s face; it was flushed, and her expression was one of rapt attention. Annette continued playing, pretending not to notice. It was hard, at first, to take compliments from her girlfriend. Still kind of was. She’d never been great at the whole self-esteem thing—never thinking she was good enough, never thinking she could accomplish the things she wanted, always struggling with burnout and imposter syndrome and the fear that she’d always be _just_ _okay_ at everything and never be able to excel beyond that.

She was still working on it.

But damn, those times when Leonie looked at her like that, she could practically melt. Still didn’t always feel like she deserved it, but… it felt so good. Because the evidence couldn’t lie. She was making Leonie feel something, and that was literally the whole point of art, wasn’t it? A wave crashed over her as she sang almost those exact words to finish the song, then cracked a smile at her girlfriend.

Leonie turned away, face impossibly red, and took too large of a sip of beer. “Jesus, Annette,” she said, voice low. “You can really fucking sing, you know that?”

Annette lowered her eyes but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t anything special, just a cover of a song from her teenage years, and honestly she was more proud of her guitar playing than her vocal capabilities. But she chewed her lip and considered—if Leonie had complimented her guitar skill instead, would she have convinced herself that it wasn’t as good as her singing? Always finding a reason to brush off the praise.

She was still working on it.

“Hey.”

Annette looked up.

“Play me something you wrote,” Leonie said before taking another long sip. The bottle was almost empty. Good lord, the girl could put away her booze.

“I’ll have to drink a lot more first,” Annette replied, picking up her cider and finishing it off. She frowned. “All gone.”

Leonie raised her eyebrows. “Was that the last one?” She opened the cooler and sorted through it. “Yup, just IPAs in here now.”

“Ugh.”

Leonie grinned. “We’ve still got the apple cider bourbon.”

Annette’s eyes went wide. “Oh boy,” she replied. “I’m already buzzing a little.”

“So that’s a yes.”

Before Annette could reply Leonie got up and popped into the tent. Annette took a deep breath, her eyes squinting against the harsh angles of the dying sun through the amber-colored leaves. It would be dark in less than half an hour. She shivered, the edges of her mind fuzzy, and fiddled with the guitar a little more. She felt like a kid again. She and her neighborhood friends all used to run around and play in the nearby field after school in the fall. Jumping in leaves, playing tag in the dark, getting big sticks and pretending they were swords or occasionally guitars. Then they got older and switched to bonfires and smuggled cases of beer and the occasional joint. Fall was full of memories.

She remembered getting asked out to a concert by a boy when she was in tenth grade. At the time she hadn’t thought much about relationships, only her grades, but driving down to the city to see Green Day and Jimmy Eat World had been a thrill she’d never experienced before. Then came the getting-high-and-making-out-in-the-car part, which taught her that she definitely did not want to kiss a boy ever again. Awkward moments at fall school festivals. Her first crush on a girl sometime before Thanksgiving break. All of it came flooding back to her, and before she knew it she was strumming a chord progression she’d written years ago and a single tear was at the corner of her eye.

She shook her head as Leonie emerged from the tent with the bottle of bourbon. “What was that you were playing?”

She took the bottle from Leonie and popped the lid. “Nothing,” she replied. “Just fooling around.” She went to put the bottle to her lips but hesitated. “Do you mind?”

Leonie scoffed. “Go for it,” she said. “We’ve swapped spit enough times.”

Annette’s face flushed red, and it wasn’t just the heat from the fire. She took a sip and winced, but only initially—the flavor cut through the sharpness of the alcohol and warmed her to her heart. God, she was such a sucker for apple-flavored things.

“Apparently I forgot to pack the Uno cards,” Leonie continued. “I was looking for them in the tent, but they’re definitely not there.”

Annette scrunched her face. “Uno cards?”

“Yeah, so we could play strip Uno.” She shrugged. “Guess we’ll just have to strip the normal way tonight.”

Annette snorted in the middle of a sip, the liquid burning the back of her nose and making her cough. “I’m sorry, strip _Uno_?”

“You can play strip anything, Annette.”

“Also,” Annette replied, “there’s no way I’m stripping tonight… it’s way too cold out here for that.”

Leonie clicked her tongue. “You know it’s warmer to sleep skin-to-skin, right?”

“Isn’t that one of those things that isn’t actually true?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Annette rolled her eyes with a smile and took another sip. Then she pressed her eyes shut and felt her head spin for a moment. Yeah, she should probably slow down on the bourbon. It tasted good, but it was like ten times as strong as the hard cider. She’d be playing her back catalog from high school for Leonie in mere moments if she kept up that pace.

The sunlight was practically gone and all she could feel was the heat from the fire. She shivered. Her hands were probably so dry by now that the skin would crack overnight and she’d wake up with splits along her knuckles. But she could still make out the leaves as they fell every time the wind picked up, and her face was starting to go numb. She smiled. Leonie smiled back at her.

“What do you say, one more song?”

Annette gently swayed in her seat. “Sure,” she replied. “But you have to play the guitar. I don’t even know if I can hold down the strings at this point.”

Leonie raised an eyebrow. “You that hammered already?”

Annette scoffed. “I’m over here throwing down bourbon, remember? It’s like eighty proof.” She jerked her head toward Leonie’s bottle. “What’s that, six percent?”

“Closer to nine, but point taken,” Leonie muttered. “Here, hand it over. And be careful, or else you’ll be throwing _up_ bourbon later.”

Annette passed the guitar over to her, then clutched the bourbon tight before gingerly taking another sip. It was just so… warm, and she could feel it coursing through her chest all the way to her extremities. Leonie began playing the intro to yet another Dave Matthews song, and Annette immediately cleared her throat.

Leonie looked up. “Really?”

She giggled. “If I’m going to sing, it’s gotta be something I know the words to… and can do while tipsy.”

“I don’t know how to play any of your Warped Tour songs.”

Annette frowned. “I miss Warped Tour,” she whispered. “I used to go every year with my best friend from middle school.”

“I bet you did,” she said with a grin.

“So what, then?” Annette asked. “Like… a nineties song?”

Leonie thought for a moment before lighting up. “Got one,” she said, then began strumming the simple chord progression to “Three Marlenas.” Annette nodded along, waiting for her cue, letting the music wash over her. Yeah, this was a campfire song, all right. When the time came she began singing, softly at first to match Leonie’s playing, but gradually getting a little bolder. By the time she reached the chorus she was sure some of the other far-off campers could hear her. She didn’t care. Let the world hear.

She quieted down again at the bridge section, letting Leonie strum for a moment, then picked up the lyrics with a bit of a rasp. She didn’t know whether she was subconsciously adding it or if it was a result of the booze, but she liked it. And, judging by Leonie’s reaction, it was safe to say her girlfriend liked it, too. She went big again for the last chorus, then let the song quietly fade, her eyes staring into the fire and watching the flames lick the night air. The crickets were singing and cheering in the trees.

“Annette,” came Leonie’s voice.

She looked over, her vision just a little blurry. Leonie was flushed again.

She was scratching her head. “Uh, you… uh, wanna head into the tent?”

Annette failed to repress a giggle. “Shit, Leonie, does my voice really get you that worked up?”

Leonie looked away. “You know it does.”

They both stood, Annette taking the guitar and the booze and Leonie spending a moment putting out the fire. Annette ducked into the tent—much more spacious than she’d expected—and stashed away everything they wouldn’t want getting in the way. They had a two-person sleeping bag spread out in the middle, and she gazed at it with a sly grin on her face. She hadn’t even known such things existed before meeting Leonie.

“I’m assuming you want to put a blanket down or something, right?” she said as Leonie entered. “Can’t imagine trying to stuff that in a washing machine.”

Leonie didn’t respond. Instead she simply crawled over to Annette and took her into her arms, holding tight. Annette’s eyes went wide for a moment, then quickly fluttered shut as she lost herself in the embrace. Leonie’s arms were strong, and Annette shivered and simply let herself be held. She tilted her head at the feeling of lips at her neck, and she let out a soft moan as she felt tongue and teeth against her skin.

Her hands slid down Leonie’s body until they reached the hem of her shirt, then slowly began to fumble with the buttons until the shirt parted. Leonie stopped her flurry of kisses long enough to let Annette take the shirt off her shoulders, and it fell away. Annette’s eyes traipsed down, taking in Leonie’s full chest and defined abs, and she chewed her lip for a moment as she pondered what to do about it. But Leonie took this opportunity to pull the shirt off Annette’s back, over her head, and tossed it to the floor. Annette shook her head in a mess of ginger hair before getting hit with the press of Leonie’s lips against her own.

Her breath was gone. All that was left was the feeling of Leonie’s lips, her tongue. Annette’s lips parted and their tongues meshed, hands roaming shoulders and chests, fingers slipping underneath bra straps and tugging until eventually both women were topless, somehow, without breaking their kiss. Annette gently pushed Leonie down onto the sleeping bag, slowly kissing down to her jaw and then to her neck. Leonie’s nails dug into her back as she let out a quiet moan.

Their remaining clothes came off quickly after that, and Annette made her way down Leonie’s body, stopping and lingering at… certain spots… along the way. She grinned. Leonie never could resist Annette’s tongue, and considering the fact that their tent was very much _not_ soundproof, she wondered if any of the distant campers could hear her moans.

“You know,” Annette breathed, “sometimes your voice gets me worked up, too.”

Leonie smiled, eyes closed, as Annette settled between her legs. She threaded her fingers through the orange locks, gripping tight as Annette got to work, and after enough stifled groans she finally sang out, hips bucking, as Annette’s tongue worked her into a daze. When Leonie finally settled Annette kissed her way back up her toned body, running her tongue over the perfectly sculpted abs, nipping at the slight protrusion of her navel, wrapping her lips around a perky nipple, then finally meeting Leonie’s waiting lips. It wasn’t long before her world flipped over and she was suddenly underneath Leonie’s hungry eyes.

“I want every single camper to hear you sing,” Leonie rasped.

Annette bit her lip. “Then you’d better do a good job.”

Leonie chuckled. Like there was any doubt.

Put simply, Leonie knew how to make Annette sing. She went hard for the nook between neck and shoulder, nipping and nuzzling, before working her way down to Annette’s chest. Not quite as voluptuous as Leonie’s, but Annette was also half a foot shorter and nowhere near as built, so it fit her frame well. She ran her tongue across Annette’s chest, stopping to attack with lips or teeth, and Annette wriggled underneath her weight.

“I swear, one of these days I’m going lick every single freckle off your body,” she breathed. As if to underscore the promise, she dug her tongue hard against Annette’s skin.

Annette gasped. “You’re welcome to keep trying,” she managed.

A wicked grin spread across Leonie’s lips, and she proceeded to run her tongue down Annette’s ribcage. Annette’s fingers tiptoed across Leonie’s back, etching slow circles as she inched her way to her auburn ponytail. She took hold of it, wrapping it around her fist. Leonie grunted but kept her mouth glued to Annette’s skin, and Annette gently guided Leonie to the spots that produced the biggest reactions. Leonie lingered at her breasts for a few moments before being guided down to her stomach, where her wet kisses and swipes with her teeth made Annette squirm and hum. Then Annette pushed Leonie down further, and soon the tent was alive with the music of her voice.

Afterward they snuggled into the sleeping bag, bodies pressed together, warmth enveloping them and shielding them from the chill of the autumn evening. They lay side by side, Annette’s arm around Leonie’s back, hand snaking up from behind to trace the lines of her abs with feather-light fingerstrokes. Leonie, on the other hand, nuzzled the top of Annette’s head, planting soft kisses and breathing her in. The tent smelled like sex and sweat and campfires and alcohol. Quite a mix.

“I told you,” Leonie whispered. “You really can sing.”

Annette smirked, eyes closed, shivering a little despite the body heat. “I think I made you sing a bit yourself.”

Leonie chuckled. “Nah, that was just good, old-fashioned moaning.”

Annette pried her eyes open and lifted the cover of the sleeping bag, glancing down at her body. “I still see a lot of freckles,” she said. “Looks like someone didn’t do too great of a job.”

“Guess I’ll just have to try again.”

Tilting her head up, Annette met Leonie’s lips in a gentle kiss, chaste after their earlier activities, but she tugged on Leonie’s lower lip with her teeth as she pulled away. “I love you,” she said, voice low.

Leonie’s cheeks reddened. “I… love you, too,” she replied, before covering Annette’s mouth with her own. When the kiss broke she nuzzled Annette’s shoulder. “Thanks for coming out here with me.”

“It’s been a good time so far,” Annette replied, catching Leonie’s eye. They both giggled. “Seriously, though, it’s so peaceful out here. You want to go watch the stars a bit?” She closed her eyes and shuddered at the press of Leonie’s lips against her neck. “Um, maybe after round two?”

Leonie flipped the sleeping bag cover open, exposing them both to the chilly air, and began tracing lines between the freckles on Annette’s chest. Tracing constellations in the stars. 

“For sure,” she whispered, breath hot against Annette’s skin as she replaced her fingers with her tongue. “Right after round three.”

Annette shivered, smiling. Sure, sure. The stars weren’t going anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Find me on Twitter: [OrangeRaven989](https://twitter.com/OrangeRaven989)


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